


Bronzed Burnished Bangles

by Sarahfreak (TahlJin)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-23
Updated: 2008-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TahlJin/pseuds/Sarahfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of Reever Wenham up until we see him in the anime episode 2 ...the story of how he came to the Black Order and finally why he wears those simple burnished bronze bangles...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bronzed Burnished Bangles

Burnished Bronze Bangles

If someone told Reever that in the not-so-distant future he would leave his homeland and eventually become the squad leader of a group scientist in a religious order called the Black Order he would’ve been the first one to tell you that there was a hospital just down the street and to the left (you should get checked out mister!)…or if it was more preferable, a mental asylum down the same street but to the right. He didn’t want to lead anyone, he cared nothing for physics, maths and logic, nor did he endeavour to be the great discoverer of some miracle treatment to better the world…he just wanted to live with his mum and dad in their tiny but comfortable corner store, on the main street of Gulgong, NSW, Australia. 

Not much happened in their small urban town but he was happy where he was thank you very much! And even if he was somewhat curious about the workings of the world, he still had no inclination to leave his somewhat sickly motherly and burly father to pursue a career that would lead to nothing but long consecutive nights with no sleep and critical peers (and that is if he got that far in the first place!). No, Gulgong was the place in which he was born and it would be the place he died as well. His mother, a petite thin wisp of lady with laughing blue eyes, never ceased to rib him about his stubbornness in this now somewhat habitual proclamation when he grumbled about being bored, whilst his father tall and strong, would only grin somewhat cheekily over his head at his mother and chuckle that it was the one thing he had inherited from him. 

Reever spent his days taking the long commute to and from Dubbo every morning/afternoon for school in which he excelled in maths, physics and surprisingly (well to his surprise anyway) language. Having almost dirty blonde/brown hair and blue/grey eyes, which were as common as kangaroos where he came from, left him in the middle of the social pecking order, he made friends easily but never found anyone in particular that he could connect to on an intellectual level. Most of these kids were set to succeed their family business after they learnt to read and write. Not one of them was fascinated by the complex processes that encompassed simple actions like riding a bike or throwing a ball. Not one of them felt the thrum of victory as they conquered the hardest mathematical equation in the textbook without cheating and most certainly did they have no interest in the fact that their teacher was actually swearing at them when they took French every second Tuesday (though he suspected that was more out of lack of comprehension then entertainment factor). In the end, all his teachers recommended that he be moved to one of the bigger schools in Canberra so he could develop his talents into a career of academia. His parents were thrilled, he was not.

While it was true that school took a majority of his time with study, the commute, and actual classes, it was not the only thing he did. On weekends he helped his mother run the general store that made up the front portion of their rather modest two-bedroom house and he now knew the name of every person and family that visited. When his mother insisted that he get out of the house every once in a while he ran lunch to his father in the mines and watched the men work with the machinery and steam engines. Since the small amount of friends he did have lived in Dubbo he spent most of his spare time with his parents, he loved them and therefore he would never leave them.

His world was confined to the edges of the town he called home and he had only been out of the country once to visit his auntie in Europe before she passed away. He had been fascinated by the complete and utter alien land of London but had no inclination to go back there anytime soon. It was the complete opposite to the scorching heat of Aussie summers, overcast almost a hundred percent of the time with rain or at one time, snow. He decided that he hated London as much as he hated the cold, which was a whole lot since there was not much he hated in the world. When they finally made it back home Reever wanted to kiss the ground (he would have if it was not made up of red dust) and he slid back seamlessly into everyday life. He graduated from school only one year earlier then people his age (having caved into skipping a grade at the start of high school) and took up a cleaning job at the Dubbo university, where he spent his time scraping unidentifiable substances off the underside of tables and secretly raiding the library before making the trek back home to Gulgong. The boredom was almost unbearable to deal with during those times but he had his family to fall back on and he was happy, though at the time he realised that this was not the same as being content.

Of course all fairytales must come to an end, because we all know that Reever Wenhamm did end up becoming not only a competent man in the field of science but also developed both the leadership skills, demeanour, and personality suited to the position of squad leader in Black Order at just 23 years of age. Why he chose England for his new home he had yet to work out…his aforementioned proclamation to never return had been negated more by necessity then personal preference. Necessity was not a world he used lightly though. His reasons for moving were twofold. One, his only living relatives were in England and two, he needed answers. Whilst it had been called an accident that destroyed his mother, father and their home Reever was convinced it was not. What kind of accident disintegrated a person into a fine ash but left their clothing fully intact? Why had someone killed his parents? They had been well liked and respected in the community, so why? All he knew was that he could not find answers in Gulgong. After the funeral of his parents (and depressingly the second one in as many weeks) Reever took whatever belongings he could salvage and jumped on the first ship bound for England. He hoped it would bring him closer to some sort of closure, a pair of burnished bronze bangles being the only thing left of his once very small world.

When his widower uncle opened the door to his nephew one long boat ride later it was three days off his twenty-first birthday. With no money, an incomplete education and only his intelligence to aid him, Reever slowly assimilated into the hustle and bustle of London life. The generosity of his uncle allowed him to pursue the long denied field of science, and in memory of his late parents Reever completed a two year degree in just one, all the while fishing for details or discoveries that fit the description of his parent’s death. It was near the completion of his masters in physics (maths being secondary) that he finally got wind of a facility called the Black Order that dealt with supernatural occurrences in a scientific manner (for the most part). He finished his masters and applied for a position halfway through his twenty-second year. 

He was accepted and spent the next six months working his way through the ranks of the order until he made his way to what was essentially second in command. Not that that didn’t come about without it’s own little hiccups along the way. For example, taking the Supervisor of the European branch hostage just two months after his appointment to the branch was not very high on his list of achievements, it certainly made for an interesting story though. Needless to say, barring the doors and throwing random failed experiments of Komui’s out the door had been sufficient enough motivation to keep both exorcists and scientist alike away from himself and his hostage for well over twenty-four hours. It was fine though, he had stocked up enough food to sustain the both of them for at least a week (it was easy enough to hide it since every time he made his way into the supervisors office he could stash the stores under a random pile of paper…the ones with cobwebs were particularly good indicators for said hiding places) and the only thing that could probably convince him to call it off earlier then he’d hoped would probably be bleeding ear drums since the supervisor hadn’t stopped wailing the moment he had tied him up. 

After about the sixth hour of ignoring his boss, Reever spent the better part of a half hour evaluating what it was about this man that had rubbed him the wrong since the first day he met him. Maybe it was the obnoxious personality, sister complex or the weird plum coloured hair? He now found those traits rather endearing (not that he would admit that out loud) and had come close to making his first close friend if not for his impromptu, premeditated act of defiance against the Ark Generals that were running them (being both the exorcists and science department) into their ground and to an early grave. His contemplation was disturbed (finally) by the lack of (mercifully) noise made by his unwilling prisoner. Having glanced at said man Reever couldn’t help but flinch at the clear, sharp gaze that was now pointed in his direction. When he first heard the mushy romantic phrase of someone being able to pierce and read your soul with just one look he was more then tempted to gag at how ridiculous the statement was, now he was not so sure.

By the time Komui finally broke the silent staring at his person, Reever had a fine sheen of sweat adorning his brow and he had to consciously make the effort to not shift like a child that had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. When he finally registered that the other man had said something and his brain caught up he uttered what had to be the most intelligent statement he has made in his life, that being a very eloquent ‘huh?’ Komui again asked the question and Reever almost flinched in response, sure it was innocent enough on the surface but heck did he carry a lot of hurt along with it. Again he was shaken out of his reverie when he observed his supervisor cocking his head to the side and sliding his gaze down to the items in question. The obvious curiosity and interest (which were traits well suited to a good scientist) he showed in said items, and in turn his person had shocked Reever yet again. Nothing about this man sense, and he thought it safe to assume that nothing ever would.

It seems that he could no longer delay answering Komui’s question if he wanted to keep the blessed silence (judging by the way that said man was shuffling around and bouncing on the spot) and steeling himself for the worst, he talked. He told Komui of his childhood, of his hometown, his parents, his self-induced isolation and frustration and then about his bangles (which was what the initial question had been about: ‘Why do you wear those?’). At this point Reever told himself that it was long enough ago now to be talked about, and that he would (or at least should) feel better by doing so.

Reever walked down the street towards the store and home. He had a long day of cleaning at the university and was tuckered beyond all belief. Frowning slightly he recalled his mistake of completing a rather difficult equation in one of the empty classrooms he was assigned, only to be caught by a professor who insisted that enrolled that very moment. Grinning slightly at the almost clockwork responses he was sure to receive from both his mother and father (‘you are wasting your talent by cleaning at the place you should be studying!’), Reever eagerly picked up his pace. The bus had run late today and it was dusk by the time he rounded Queen Street onto the main avenue, only to see a column of black smoke rising from his house. 

Fear and Panic had gripped his heart in an unyielding vice as he bolted toward the shop front. Bursting through the door he screamed his mother and fathers name, with no answer. Running through the charcoal isles of what used to be stock, he stopped dead to stare at the space between the counter and the back wall. The place where his mother usually stood when she served the customers, the place where his father would swipe and store candy when his mother wasn’t looking, the place that was now marred by a perfect black singe circle. The logical part of Reever’s brain told him ‘there’s nothing here, find your parents’ but something had made him stop and take a closer look. There wasn’t just a scorched section defacing the floor but two piles of fine grey ash-like substance leaking out what looked like his parents clothes. Shaking non-stop and forestalling his every instinct to run and deny this fact, Reever made his way towards the clothes and ash. When he was but a foot away his legs gave way in realisation…it was his parents…or at least what was left of them. It wasn’t the clothes that told him that though, but rather the two simple bronze burnished bangles that lay on top of each other between the sets of clothes. He had seen and known these bangles for as long as he could remember. When he had inquired what they were for, both his mother and father had laughingly said something about not being able to afford the usual wedding rings and that they used these bangles his father had made instead. Everyday they wore them. One on each wrist, never taking them off, even in death. He could almost see his parents clasping their hands together as death took them. His world was shifting on it’s axis, swaying between grief, shock and insanity. Shaking he stared at the ‘bodies’ (if that is what you could call them), the smooth pane of his existence was cracking and then shattering with the sound of a cacophony of falling glass. He supposed, years later, when he found out the true nature of his parents death, he was lucky that he had passed out when he did. Otherwise he knows for sure that the Earl would have payed him a visit. 

Coming back to himself Reever flinched when he felt himself enclosed in a warm circle of arms. Strangely enough the first thought that came into his head was not ‘how the hell did he get out of the ropes’ or ‘why is he doing this’ but rather a dreamy unguarded ‘this feels nice’. Bringing up his own arms to return the gesture he stopped halfway when he felt moisture slide down his cheeks. Letting one hand drop back to his side he lifted the other to swipe across said cheek and stared in wonder. He was crying. He hadn’t cried in over six years, not even at his own parents funeral. Again he felt his world crumbling/shattering around him, so all that was left was the man holding him like his father used to. He lifted his arms once again and returned the embrace, collapsing into his supervisor’s arms and allowing himself the long denied luxury of letting go and just feeling, living, being.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because when he came back to awareness he found himself not cradled in his supervisors arms, but instead laid out on the cushioned paper ground with his head laying in the purple-haired mans lap. He let out a sigh of contentment as an elegant hand ran its way through his spiky locks and teasing out any knots it encountered on the way. He almost drifted back to sleep when he realised a few important things; One: he was laying on the floor with his head in his hostages lap instead of a cell, Two: he was in sooooo much trouble when he finally called this whole charade off, and Three: the man of whom he was using as a pillow was crying. Blinking owlishly at the sight Reever opened his mouth and then shut it numerous times until he finally managed to stutter out a somewhat crackly ‘what’s wrong?’ The other jumped slightly and seemed to snap his gaze to the man in his lap before hastily scrubbing at his face. Grabbing onto one of the long sleeves of his lab coat Reever stopped his futile attempt to cover his vulnerability and asked the question again, this time adding a wry ‘I had my turn, now it’s yours’ in an attempt to lighten the mood. Chocking out a laugh, which sounded more like a strangled sob, the supervisor took a deep breath, as if to steal himself against he worse, and he talked.

He told him of his little sister, of the experiments that he took upon himself to know and be responsible for. He stumbled his way through guilt loaded confessions of sending good people to their deaths, of watching people mourn for others whose families would never know their child/father/mother/aunt/uncle had died in a holy war they were and had been steadily loosing for over a hundred years. Lastly he spoke about the suffering he had seen, caused with his own orders and did not know of in the people he called subordinates. Reever took a moment to observe this man whilst he talked, taking in the hands twisting anxiously, the pinched expression, the beginnings of crows feet from smiling as much as he could when he could branching from the corners of his eyes. What he had thought was a perfect completion maintained through frequent naps on paperwork could probably be more likened to the Panda’s of his homeland. There were wrinkles in places there shouldn’t be there in forty-year-olds let alone a young man of twenty-six. With further examination, whilst listening intently (he had always been good at multi-tasking, honed now to perfection in this job from watching one’s safety whilst working with the purple haired tornado.), he noticed that whilst he was quite comfortable on Komui’s lap, the man was thin…too thin. The absence of fangs, gleam of mischief in his eyes, or the large theatrical tears, worried Reever more then it should have and he reversed their positions so that it was now him that cradled the other man who openly sobbed into his lab coat. 

Surprisingly enough when both men had given into the pull of sleep, long after the tears had dried from their eyes, someone…anyone had yet to show up and liberate the ‘hostage’ from his captor. They spent the next couple of day’s playing card games, telling stories from home, of a time before the order, and Reever realised that this is what he had needed. It was not really the injustice the higher ups had imposed upon the scientists, but rather the fact that he (and the supervisor) had wanted, no needed to rest and lay down the burden he had been carrying for far too long. When they finally ran out of food Reever surrendered himself without complaint and was surprised (yet again) when the supervisor managed to get him on a probation rather then some nasty punishment, or worse yet: banishment from the black order.

The days, months, and soon years that flowed on after that melded into a familiar pattern of sleepless nights, quiet suffering and desperation, but this was also shared with the feeling that something worth hoping for was not too far off in the future. Reever still remained as the second-in-command under the eccentric purple haired Komui Lee and never failed to learn something new about the strange man every day. He learnt to read the signs of fatigue, the twitch at the corner of his eyes when he wanted to escape (or build one his infernal robots), as well as the inklings of despair that would creep across his face at irregular intervals. When he saw any hints of these expressions laid claim to his supervisor’s face he would make sure to pull put the blanket that he had stashed in his bottom draw to drop over his shoulders when the fatigue won over or pull open the draw above that held a coil of rope that was used to restrain the man of interest when that evil little gleam appeared in his eye. A comforting hand on the shoulder would always chase the last expression away, or at least delay it long enough to summon some of Lenalee’s famous coffee, which he had yet mastered making well enough to satisfy the mans tastes (aka he threw a fit unless it was Lenalee’s coffee!). 

During this time Reever met and said goodbye to many good people. Whilst he learnt to read and understand his supervisor, he also learnt to live with the feeling of helplessness that haunted those that were doomed to assist the exorcists away from the front lines. He learnt how precious life was (though it was a lesson he had been taught more times then he’d care to remember), how he could help in his own way, finally finding a place in which he belonged and was useful to people that worked directly against the power that had taken his parents away from him. After holding the supervisor hostage and serving out his period of probation Reever made sure to meet and befriend everyone that crossed his path, offering a smile, a really bad joke, or just silent support when needed. He risked his life everyday, maybe not on the battlefield fighting akuma, but rather traversing the rugged peeks formed by the numerous piles of paperwork that barred him from the signature he needed. He became the glue that held their little group together. Komui, Johnny, Tapp and the others were now more then nameless faces that barred his way to the answers he looked for, and had turned into a sort of surrogate family who lived and breathed for the sole purpose of supporting a cause that was greater then themselves.

Needless to say every day was a challenge. Between the research and development of new weapons, studying the innocence, doing paperwork, reining in a certain branch head, as well as dealing with people (which was never something Reever had been real good at) he found the balance between the days that he was rested and exhausted had tipped drastically in the direction of the later rather then the suggested former. He had the immense pleasure (or horror, whichever way you looked at it) of meeting team Tiedoll on one particularly busy day and has never recovered from the shock of the occasion (he had a slight bald spot just behind his right ear as proof). Kanda, upon meeting him, had immediately threatened to slice him in two when he mistakenly addressed him by his first name (true he was good at linguistics but that didn’t man he could remember everything all the time!), Daisya bounced around the room like a demented ball of uncontained energy, toppling over piles of just sorted paperwork like some sick rendition of knocking over bowling pins (Reever has never honestly hated someone so much as he did then!) and Noise Marie, while all this happened, held up a rather pleasant conversation with Johnny without so much as batting an eyelid. As much as the three where somewhat difficult to deal with, their master was immensely strange (and thus difficult) in comparison. He had never seen someone bounce so quickly from fatherly pride, to tears, to smiles in the same sentence, and to a complete stranger nonetheless! 

Next on the list of strange meetings was the Bookman duo. He had found the older of the two to be a good conversationalist when the occasion called for it, and had rather admired the skill in which he kept his charge under his thumb (if only he had that affect on the supervisor now and then) even if he was a little bit distant, which was to be expected of the renowned keepers of history both known and unknown. Bookman junior however, had freaked him out the moment he met him. Not because he was loud, cheeky, had an eye patch, and had recently become an accommodator to a giant hammer that could squish him like a bug, but rather because when he looked at you…he saw nothing. Not a person, but a statistic or (if he was so lucky) a splash of ink in the long history of the Bookman. When Bookman junior (christened Lavi after much insistence from said apprentice) met people he was friendly, made jokes, smiled, laughed and played pranks, but it never quite reached his eye and the thought had made him quite sad when he had the time to idly reminisce on one of his rare breaks.

Lenalee he had met a long time ago. She was a pleasant, pretty girl but he had found her (personally) a little difficult to deal with at first (until he learnt of her treatment at the order) and had avoided her as much as possible (much to her brothers immense relief). The little Lee had soon become a permeant fixture to the science department for Reever. She delivered coffee in the mornings, woke her brother up to have lunch with her at midday, and was generally the source of smiles and laughter in the science department when everyone had reached beyond their highest threshold of sleep deprivation and stress. He soon came out of himself enough to hold short conversations with her as she did her rounds and soon came to think of her as the little sister he had never had. When she was assigned to her first missions he was the one who spent a majority of his workday supporting the frantic supervisor whilst secretly worrying for her himself. He, along with the rest of the science department, became the unofficial guards and protectors of Lenalee Lee and he added yet another member to his surrogate family.

Time had passed in a blur of meetings and partings, Sorrow and happiness. When Reever turned twenty-six (the supervisor had insisted on chucking a party…we all knew he just wanted to shirk his workload) he, for the first time since he had joined the black order, had finally felt as if he belonged somewhere and was important to people on a basis that had nothing to do with blood or obligated affection. He had a family made up of a strange group of science nerds, a psychotic boss and innocence-wielding soldiers, but he was happy nonetheless. Little had he known that yet another addition to this tight nit group would rock the foundations of not only his world but also the entire Black Order with his mere arrival. When the apprentice of General Cross Marian had knocked on their door, white haired, cursed, and adorned with a left arm parasitic type innocence, Reever knew that something was going to change. That the tide of the war was maybe finally tipping in their favour. It may not change straight away since it was more then guaranteed that he would still have to drag the supervisor out of his random hiding places in order to get some decent work done, that he would still have to work on minimal sleep held over by caffeinated soft drinks, and that he would still shoulder the guilt of only being able to play a somewhat minor role behind the scenes of a war that had been going on for centuries, but still, there was hope, something that had slowly being strangled with the ever increasing casualty reports he read everyday. While this change promised grey hairs, high blood pressure and the worsening of his caffeine addiction, he, Reever Wenhamm, would play his part in the Black Order and the war. Not only for his parents, but also for the family and in turn the world he had come to know and love. 

Hello my name is Allen Walker, it’s a pleasure to meet you all…


End file.
